because I went to watch a midnight showing of Twilight: Eclipse. There are no spoilers here, just random thoughts.
- I am probably getting too old to go to midnight movies. I sort of don’t care and have this urge to do it just to defy my aging self.
- I don’t understand why there were so many elementary school-aged boys at the movie. What’s the appeal? The fight scenes?
- I continue to get my hopes up that movies will be as good as books that I enjoy. They never are. I become so irritated when the screenwriters change words and alter dialogue that was written perfectly well in the book. I understand that a lot has to be cut and some things can’t be the same – but some things can.
- Jacob annoys me. If you feel the same, I advise that you sit next to someone who is also annoyed by Jacob so that you can look at each other and roll your eyes when he is on screen. He does have some funny lines though . . .
- I love watching movies with diehard fans. There’s laughing, yelling, random commentary – it cracks me up and increases the enjoyment of the movie experience.
- You should always watch Twilight movies with Jenn Kloubec.
- Having a doctor’s appointment scheduled for 8:40 a.m. the following morning after a midnight movie is just stupid. (The baby looks good. Strong heartbeat. Caught he/she sucking his/her thumb on the sonogram.)
- I really want to own all of Bella Swan’s hoodies.
- I am curious if the people that showed up at 11 p.m for the midnight movie really thought they were going to get good seats . . .
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Emotional Rollercoasters
I feel like my kids are prone to extremes – either they are ridiculously happy or inconsolably crying. I usually only post pics of the first, but do not be fooled into thinking that they are always so smiley. Now, I can handle happiness, but whining and crying . . . not so much. And if there were ever a time that I was going to yell or have a break down of my own, well, it’s likely when they are throwing tantrums and I can’t make them stop. At our “Praying Life” book group this week, Joanna encouraged us to have some sort of physical reminder to pray throughout the day. Immediately the thought came to mind – what if I started praying any time one of my kiddos started crying? Usually that’s about the 10th thing on my list of things to try. When the tears start to fall, I usually first offer food or drink (even things I wouldn’t usually give them, like my Dr. Pepper), gadgets (watch, phone, keys), hold them, threaten Malachi with going to bed, etc. When all of that fails, then I might pray. But, I’m going to be trying to reverse all that – so this week I’m making it a goal to pray as soon as they start crying. And wouldn’t you know it – the Lord must want me to pray a lot because as soon as I decided to do this Evie has been bawling non-stop. Lots of good prayer time happening. And, as I expected, it doesn’t always cause the kids to stop crying, but does change my reaction to them. Crazy how that happens . . .
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The Preservationist
Summer seems to be a great time for fiction reading, so that’s what I’ve been doing. I tend to stick to reading the classics because I figure they’re “classics” for a reason, but Halim comes home every so often with a pile of books that he’s picked out for me to read. I have no idea where he found this one, but he recently brought home a copy of the book The Preservationist. I loved loved loved it. It’s a fictional account of Noah and the ark – with all the accurate descriptions from Scripture, but also what it might have been like for Noah and his family as they built this enormous boat in the middle of the desert amidst jeers and taunts from the world. The book just brought so many questions to mind:
- How did Noah and the others feel about seeing people flailing in the water and hearing their screams as the flood wiped out every single person in existence other than their family?
- What do you do when you’re stuck on an ark and have no idea if you’ll be there for two days, two weeks or two years?
- Was it hard for Noah to speak the curse from God over Ham or did he feel it was fitting of the crime?
I recommend this to everyone – even if you are a person that doesn’t believe in the Bible or the Biblical account of the flood . It makes you wonder if you would ever believe in something so much that you’d be willing to live as radically as Noah did.
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If you’re familiar with Tim Keller’s teaching on idols of the heart, he identifies 4 deep idols: power, approval, control and comfort. My number one is approval. (If you know me, you’d probably have guessed control. That’s one up there, too. But, I’ll give up control for approval, so I see it as the supreme idol of my heart.)
I’ve been listening to a lot of One Republic lately, and well – they wrote a song that perfectly describes the desires of my approval idol. The song is titled, “Everybody Loves Me” and these are some of the lyrics:
Oh my, feels just like I don’t try
Looks so good I might die
All I know is everybody loves me
Get down, swinging to my own sound
Flashes in my face now
All I know is everybody loves me
Now, obviously, I don’t actually think all of these things are true of myself, but man – the idol of approval in my heart wishes they were. Why can’t everybody just love me? And why can’t it be effortless – “feels just like I don’t try?” I actually try really hard for people to like me. In theory it seems like a beautiful thing. But we’ve all experienced the truth of the matter – you can’t please everyone, you can’t make everyone happy all the time, and if you want to stand for anything, to believe anything to be true – well, you’ve lost a lot of love right there.
So, the struggle of my life is this – how can I go from being a person who loves the approval of people to being a person that loves only the approval of God? It’s been a tiresome process. I don’t expect that it will end anytime soon. Some days I make myself sick when I think about how ugly my heart is in what it desires. But hopefully I am exchanging the approval of man for the approval of God a little at a time, day by day, however slowly it may be, as He takes me from one degree of sanctification to the next.
Maybe by the time I’m 80, I won’t need your approval anymore . . .
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